


Fighting Fire With Fire

by kel_1970



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Humor, M/M, PWP, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 15:17:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kel_1970/pseuds/kel_1970
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Halloween on the Enterprise. Jim is going as a firefighter, but Bones isn't telling what his costume is. Jim comes home from trick-or-treating to find some more treats planned for him. Utter PWP, and slightly cracky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fighting Fire With Fire

**Fighting Fire with Fire**

_October 26th, Old Earth Calendar._

“All right, people; I think the mission plan looks good—it’s really shaping up. As always, I’m impressed by the work that all the department heads have put into planning. Now, does anyone have any new ship-wide business?” Jim asked.

Leonard could tell Jim had something he wanted to bring up when everyone else was done; he had that slightly manic glint in his eyes that Bones recognized as childlike excitement.

Nobody spoke up.

“No? All right. _I_ have some new business. Anyone following the Earth calendar knows we’re at the end of October, and anyone from North America knows what that means!” Jim said, rubbing his hands together and smiling widely.

The two non-human department heads waited politely for someone to respond, and the three humans not from the North American area looked blank. Bones put his forehead in his palm, suddenly realizing what had Jim all excited.

“Nobody? Okay—make me say it. That’s fine. Halloween!” Jim said. “On the old Earth calendar, it’s five days from today.”

“Oh, aye!” Scotty said, eyes brightening. “I know that one! Where the children dress up in costumes, and go door to door begging for sweets!”

“But there are no children on this ship,” Spock said, frowning slightly.

“ _How_ long have you been on board, Spock?” Leonard asked. “Look right next to you, at the guy in the gold shirt with all the fancy braids on the wrists.”

“Shush, Bones! C’mon, it’ll be fun!” Jim said. “We can all dress up—well, anyone who isn’t a stick-in-the-mud, that is—and trick-or-treat all over the ship. Well, except in restricted or hazardous areas,” he amended.

Half the room still stared at him blankly. Leonard sighed, and took pity on them.

“What the Captain is suggesting is that we put on costumes—historical characters, fictional characters, animals, even objects—and parade around the ship, with each department handing out treats to the paraders,” Bones explained.

“It’s fun,” Scotty said.

“How ‘bout it people?” Jim asked. “Anyone strenuously against the idea?” Jim asked, as Leonard’s hand shot up in the air. “But _Doctor_ , aren’t you always saying that the crew needs to find ways to relieve stress?”

“It wasn’t the ship’s doctor voting; it was your _boyfriend_ , who knows he’s gonna get sucked into this madness big time,” Bones muttered.

“I don’t see any hands,” Jim said, as Leonard waved his hand wildly in the air, “so I guess it’s a ‘go.’ Excellent. I’ll have the ship’s historian post instructions, along with some costume suggestions. Participation is optional, of course. And, since nobody else had any new business, this staff meeting is adjourned, at 0903 hours. Dismissed. And have fun.”

~!~!~!~

Jim got home first that night, as sickbay had been busy all afternoon. When Leonard came in the door of their quarters, he found Jim poring over page after page of costume suggestions from the ship’s historian, who was happy to have something to do that the entire ship might pay attention to. He’d come up with what looked like photos from an old Halloween costume catalog, as well as a variety of options from other cultural traditions, including from many non-human species.

“Bones! Bones! I have the perfect one—look at this!” Jim said, pointing to the picture he’d enlarged.

Leonard leaned over Jim’s shoulder to examine the photo. It was a picture of a toned-looking fellow, with ripped abs, wearing black boots, black pants with a bright stripe up the side, a similar coat (though open up the front to display the tasty-looking abs), and an oddly-shaped helmet, with the back brim longer than the front one. He stared at the picture again, and couldn’t imagine what the outfit was supposed to represent. The shape of the helmet looked vaguely familiar, but the outfit itself didn’t ring a bell.

“I give up,” he said. “What’s he supposed to be?”

“A firefighter!” Jim announced.

“Looks more like a stripper to me,” Bones said, eyeing the abs.

“Well, in that picture, he probably is—it’s just a costume; not the real thing. But he looks pretty damned hot, anyhow. Kinda reminds me of you. But here’s the _real_ thing,” Jim said, swiping a finger across the screen to reveal the next photo. “I found this in the archives. Early 21st century firefighter, from the former United States.”

Leonard could see from the second photo that the gear was serious—heavy, thick canvas, with equally heavy-looking rubber boots. The helmet looked much more substantial than in the previous picture, and the fellow also had a cylindrical tank on his back.

“I guess this looks more … real, but I still don’t really know what I’m looking at,” Leonard admitted.

“Firefighter, Bones! These guys actually used water to put out fires in buildings, back when it was still allowed to build with combustible materials. And way before Global Emergency Transport To Safety. They’d go inside to rescue people who were trapped.”

“People went _inside_ burning structures? On _purpose_?” Leonard said.

“Well, think about it, Bones. If people are still inside, and you don’t have transporters, so there’s no such thing as the ‘GET To Safety’ network yet, what else can you do?”

Leonard thought about it, and shuddered. “I guess so,” he said. “But … damn.”

“Damn indeed. So anyhow, that’s what I’m gonna be. Obsolete for nearly a century, but cool nonetheless.”

“Not so sure if ‘cool’ is the word I’d pick,” Leonard said.

“And what’re you gonna be, Bones?” Jim asked, closing the photos.

“You think _I’m_ actually going to dress up?” McCoy said, scowling with the expression Jim was sure had been invented just for him.

“Yep,” Jim said, nodding his head. “I do.”

“And you think this because …”

“Because no matter how bad you don’t wanna do something silly, I always find a way to con you into it,” Jim said.

“Good point,” Leonard said. “All right. Since resistance is apparently going to be futile, lemme have a look at that catalog the historian sent around.”

“You could be a firefighter too, Bones—we could match!” Jim said.

“Not a chance,” Leonard said. “Too juvenile—to match, I mean. Plus, even _thinking_ about what that job must’ve been like gives me the willies.”

“Well … how about if you go with the same time period, at least? Maybe something more along your personality lines?” Jim suggested.

Leonard sighed. “Okay. I know when I’m beaten. But here’s the deal. I’m not, repeat, _not_ , telling you what I’m gonna be, until you see the costume on Halloween itself. You can wheedle, beg, and whine all you want—and mind you, if it gets to be too much, I may just bow out entirely—but you’re not gonna know a thing until the day itself. Because I know you, and I know you’re either gonna try to talk me out of whatever I pick, or more likely, talk me in to whatever it is you already have in mind for me. So that’s the deal. I’ll play along and dress up, but it’s all secret until that day. Deal?”

Jim stared at Bones for a long moment. “All right. I also know when _I’m_ beat. So it’s a deal.”

“Shake on it?” Bones said, putting his hand out.

Jim spat in his hand and shook Leonard’s hand.

“Gross!” McCoy said, pulling his hand away. “Don’t you know how many germs are in saliva?”

“You didn’t seem too worried about germs this morning,” Jim pointed out, “when you—”

Leonard silenced him with a kiss that was both scorching and ironic. “Good point,” he said, when he finally pulled away.

~!~!~!~

_October 27th._

“That’s not gonna get you anywhere, kid,” Bones said.

Jim jumped a foot in the air, and put Leonard’s padd down guiltily.

“There’s nothing on there that would give you a hint. In fact, there’s no evidence anywhere that will help you figure it out. So just give up, Jim. You’re not gonna find out, unless I suddenly start talking in my sleep.”

Jim was quiet for a few seconds.

“And no, damn it, there aren’t any drugs that will make me talk in my sleep, so just … stop those infernal wheels in your brain from turning. Put the brakes on. For both our sakes.”

~!~!~!~

_October 28th._

“Check it out, Bones!” Jim said, as he laid the heavy-looking costume out on the bed. It was all there—boots, helmet, thick pants, suspenders, a fabric hood, and a heavy coat with pockets everywhere.

“Nice,” Leonard said. “Seriously. That replicator technology is amazing. Spooky, but amazing.”

“How far up are you on the list, Bones? For your costume?”

“Oh, I’ll have it in time for the event. And before you even try, I had Spock encrypt my request, so that even _you_ can’t get at it. I didn’t let him see it before he locked it down, either, so don’t try to bamboozle it out of him, either.”

“I don’t think bamboozling actually _works_ on Vulcans,” Jim said. “Because believe me, I’ve tried. Repeatedly, for many reasons.”

~!~!~!~

_October 29th._

Leonard was finishing reading over Lieutenant Markham’s chart when Christine Chapel tapped on his open door.

“Chris—what’s up?”

“Just thought you’d like to know that a certain starship captain has been extremely interested lately in what various people in the medical department are going to be for Halloween. I figured this was something between you and him, so I tried to stay out of it. But Geoffrey told him he didn’t think you were dressing up at all.”

Leonard grinned up at her. “Well, you do always have your finger on the pulse of sickbay, don’t you? Anyhow, yes, he’s trying to find out, but he won’t, because nobody knows but me. And I’m not telling.”

“So you _are_ dressing up?” Chapel asked, eyebrows rising.

“Oh, yes. Yes, I most certainly am.”

~!~!~!~

_October 30th._

“Jim!” Leonard bellowed, the moment he entered their quarters.

Something smelled. He couldn’t quite identify the smell, but it wasn’t pleasant.

“Yes?” Jim stepped out from behind the partition that separated the living area from the sleeping area.

Leonard froze as he looked Jim up and down.

The costume was astounding. The boots gave him at least another inch of height, and the bulky coat broadened him in just the right way. The smear of soot on his forehead was sexy for reasons that McCoy couldn’t quite comprehend, and the thick gloves, attached to the coat by a Velcro strap, just served to remind Leonard of everything the hands that would wear them had ever done to him. And in the context of the outfit, the smell—an earthy, sooty, aroma, part woodsmoke and part something else—was sexy too. The newly-synthesized smell that Leonard had just been about to complain about actually made the outfit even more spectacular.

“Never mind,” he muttered, as he closed the gap between the two of them. “That’s …”

“It’s hot, huh Bones?” Jim said, grinning so widely his molars were visible.

“Yeah.” Leonard cleared his throat. “Can’t say quite why, exactly, but yeah, darlin’. It sure is.”

“Thought so. Now—you sure you don’t wanna give me a sneak preview of _your_ getup?”

Leonard didn’t answer—he just started ripping open Velcro, and pulling down the hidden zipper on the heavy coat.

~!~!~!~

_October 31st._

Alpha shift was over, and Beta shift had settled in. They were ready—or they thought they were—for the onslaught of costumed paraders that the Captain had decided to inflict on them. Leonard had been held up in sickbay for fifteen minutes after his shift was supposed to be over, so by the time he returned to his and Jim’s quarters, Jim was already dressed in his costume. He had somehow acquired a garish orange plastic pumpkin with a rope handle, which Leonard understood was for carrying treats.

“Bones! You ready to go trick-or-treating? I mean, obviously you’re not, unless you’re dressing up as a Starfleet Chief Medical officer, but …” Jim frowned at Bones, who had flopped down into a chair, looking exhausted from his day.

“Please tell me you’re _not_ dressing as a Starfleet CMO, Bones,” Jim said.

“I’m not dressing as a Starfleet CMO,” Leonard said dutifully. “I just … I need to relax for a while before I do anything. I’ve been in sickbay since 0400, what with Ensign Brandt’s accident. But don’t wait for me. You go on ahead. I’ll stay home and hand out candy to the kids.”

“Okay—but don’t be too long,” Jim said. “You promised, remember?”

“I promised to dress up— _not_ to parade around the ship in some ridiculous get-up,” Leonard said.

“But … but …”

“And I _will_ dress up,” Leonard continued, as if Jim weren’t standing there in front of him, gaping like a guppy. “But it’s just for you. Not for the entire crew.”

Jim perked up at that statement. “I think maybe I like the sound of that,” he said.

“Thought you might,” Leonard said, leaning back in the chair, eyes closed, but lips quirked upwards in a small smile.

“So,” Jim said. “You wanna grab a nap, while I go trick-or-treating with the crew?”

“Yeah,” Leonard said. “Just a short one.”

“And … will I have a surprise when I get home?” Jim asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah, if you show up after, say, eight thirty,” Leonard said.

Jim straddled Bones and leaned down to kiss him, struggling to bend in the heavy costume.

“Does that mean I shouldn’t come back before then?”

“Yep,” Leonard said, unable to resist grinning back up at him. “Have fun.”

“You bet. People have been talking all day—I really think it’ll be good for the crew,” Jim said, as he headed to the door. “Except for me. Since you’re killing me, here, Bones.”

“A little suffering is good for your constitution,” Leonard said. “Now shoo. See you at nine. Remember the rules: look both ways before you cross the street, and no going into strangers’ houses.”

“Har de har.”

The door swished open, and swished closed again. Leonard waited a few minutes, until he was sure Jim wouldn’t be barging back in. He sprang into action, his feigned exhaustion melting away. The talk of napping was a cover. Yes, he’d been in sickbay since 0400, treating an ensign for a badly broken leg acquired in an accident in Engineering, but he’d taken a two-hour nap after lunch, during a time where there was nothing he could actively do for the injured crew member.

He activated his comm unit.

“Scotty, are you ready with my stuff?”

“ _Aye, but I’m still terrifically curious,”_ Scotty replied.

“Well, you’re just gonna hafta stay that way,” Leonard said. “But rest assured: there will be a smile on our captain’s face in the morning.”

“ _All right, then. Site-to-site beaming commencing in ten seconds. Here it comes,”_ Scotty said.

The transporter shimmer faded, and a pile of objects appeared on the living room floor.

“Everything’s here, Scotty,” Leonard said, after checking the pile over.

“ _I’ll be up with the tools, then,”_ Scotty said. “ _Scott out._ ”

Leonard inspected each object from the pile: a brass pole, with flanges on each end to mount it to the floor and the ceiling; an intra-ship delivery box with the Replication department’s logo on it; a hefty, cloth-jacketed hose; a red metal canister with an attached hose that had a nozzle on the end of it; and last but not least, a state-of-the-art holoprojector, programmed to Leonard’s exact specifications.

The door chimed, and Leonard let Scotty in.

“Now, where did you want this pole installed?” he asked.

“Right over here,” Leonard said, pointing to an area not quite in the center of the living area. He started moving furniture out of the way, to make room for the activities he had planned.

“And I suppose this has something to do with the pole that got installed in one of the exercise rooms, does it not?” Scotty asked.

“Well, I had to practice,” Leonard said.

“Aye,” Scotty said dubiously. “Practice. Now, I know you’re not going to tell me what’s going on, but will you at least tell me what all these things are?”

Leonard held the pole firmly while Scotty started fastening it to the floor.

“Why the hell not,” he said. “So this is the pole. Fire stations in the twentieth century often had living quarters upstairs of the garages where they kept the trucks, and sliding down a pole was faster in an emergency than going down a flight of stairs.”

“Sounds like a recipe for disaster, if you ask me,” Scotty said. “But there’s no upstairs! What on God’s green earth are you going to do with a one-story pole?”

“That’s for me to know, and you to not find out,” Leonard said, smirking.

Scotty shook his head. “You’ve been living with Captain Kirk for far, far too long, laddie.”

“Not nearly long enough,” Leonard said.

“The hose, I understand,” Scotty said. “This is back from the days when they used water to extinguish fires in structures, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Correct!” Leonard said, still steadying the pole as Scotty anchored it firmly to the ceiling.

“But the canister—that has me baffled,” Scotty admitted, as he tugged on the pole to test its strength. “Compressed air?”

“Well, it should really be carbon dioxide, but I didn’t think the ship’s air-quality sensors would appreciate CO2 spraying all over the room. So I substituted.”

“Ah!” Scotty said. “Carbon dioxide would displace oxygen, and smother a fire!”

“Also correct!” said Leonard.

“And you’ve come up with naughty uses for all these things, I suppose,” Scotty said.

“Correct again,” Leonard said. “Now. Thanks for your help. I guess I’ll need some help getting rid of the pole. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Whenever you’re done with it,” Scotty said from the doorway. “Have fun, and remember your safe-words.”

“Ha ha ha,” Leonard grumbled, as Scotty left.

He picked up the box from the folks in Replication, and opened it. He pulled out the costume, which was exactly what he’d requested. It hadn’t been difficult to get Replication a picture of the costume, since, after all, the ship’s historian had already sent it out ship wide.

Leonard took off his uniform in the sleeping area, and tried the costume on in front of the mirror. It fit perfectly—the shiny pants were just the right tightness in the ass, and the open front of the coat displayed his hard-earned pecs and abs just the way the model in the catalog demonstrated. The plastic helmet, which weighed only a few ounces, would be a useful accessory.

Yes indeed, Leonard thought, ‘stripper fireman’ had been the right choice. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Jim’s face.

He set up the holoprojector in its assigned location, and pressed the “Start” button on its tiny remote. The remote was so small he’d been able to mount it on a ring, which he placed on one of his fingers. An extremely realistic-looking fire popped up, and the built-in aroma generator made it even more realistic by adding the scent that Leonard had shamelessly copied from Jim’s file for his own costume. He aimed a short blast of compressed air from the nozzle attached to the red “fire extinguisher” at the sensors on the holoprojector, and the ‘flames’ were replaced by wispy gray smoke.

“Perfect,” he said to himself. He took the costume off, changing into a comfy set of sweats, and practiced his moves for a while.

The pole got a workout, proving that Scotty’s installation was sound. The cloth-jacketed hose got unrolled, played with in various ways until Leonard was satisfied that he knew what to do with it, and rerolled.

Leonard put the holoprojector through its paces, running each of the programs he’d set it up with. From its spot near the entrance to the bedroom, it projected perfectly into the living area, but the image was slightly distorted when it projected into the bedroom. No matter, Leonard thought; by that time in the scenario he’d planned, Jim really wouldn’t be paying attention to details like that.

Forty-five minutes before the time that Leonard had ‘suggested’ that Jim return, Leonard realized it was time to clean up and really get ready. He put all his props in their assigned hiding spots, and used the sonic shower. He used the surgical depilator device that he’d borrowed from sickbay, to make sure his entire chest and abdomen were completely smooth, just like the model stripper in the catalog.

Jim was rarely on time for anything unofficial, but Leonard had a sneaking feeling that he would turn up at nearly exactly eight thirty. So, at eight twenty-five, he fired up the holoprojector, effectively setting the entire room ablaze. He adjusted his ‘helmet,’ knocked back a single shot of his good bourbon, and, ‘fire extinguisher’ at the ready, leaned up against a wall and waited.

At eight twenty-nine, the door chime sounded. Len swore, and turned the projector off. Due to his … non-regulation attire, he used the intercom rather than opening the door.

“McCoy,” he barked, irritated at the intrusion. He’d followed the clearly-stated rules of the ‘holiday,’ showing he wasn’t giving out treats by not hanging decorations over the door.

“ _Bones? It’s me. Can I come in? Or is it too early?_ ”

Leonard grinned wickedly, and turned the projector back on.

“C’mon in, darlin’.”

The door opened, and Jim stepped in, the door swishing shut behind him.

“Bones! What the fuck?” he said, as he threw himself to the floor, just as Starfleet emergency training had taught him to do in the event of a fire.

Leonard barely suppressed a guffaw—this wasn’t the reaction he’d expected, but he gave the holoprojector points for realism. He maintained his pose, until Jim realized there was no heat with the flame, and stood up again.

“Bones?” Jim said, into the hazy room, lit only by the faux flames. Visibility was only about fifteen centimeters, but Leonard knew exactly where the holoprojector was. He aimed his extinguisher at the sensors once more, and sprayed. The flames died down, leaving the room dimly lit and still hazy with holographic smoke.

Leonard went over to Jim, carrying his fake fire extinguisher.

“Oh, look; another firefighter. It’s my lucky day, because I could use a hand with a few things, if you’ve got the time,” Leonard said, chest-to-chest with Jim.

He enjoyed watching the changing expressions on Jim’s face—the blankness of not understanding the situation, followed by appreciation of Leonard’s attire, and capped off with the hugest grin Leonard had seen on the man in a very long time.

Jim set aside his ridiculous orange plastic pumpkin, and hefted the substantial-looking axe he’d acquired sometime during the evening, resting the heavy end on his shoulder.

“I think I could manage that,” Jim said, “for one of the brotherhood. What’d you have in mind?” His eyes traveled down from Leonard’s face, to his bare, exposed chest. Leonard smirked inwardly as he saw Jim bite his lip.

“I have this terrible problem with my hose,” Leonard said. “But wait—you must be overheating in that heavy gear.” He undid the neck flap of Jim’s heavy coat, and lowered the zipper just a few inches, exposing Jim’s neck down to the hollow where his collarbones met. He trailed his finger up from the zipper, over the suprasternal notch, across the Adam’s apple, and then over his chin, resting it on Jim’s lower lip.

“That’s better,” Leonard said. “But you still look very, very hot. No matter—occupational hazard, I suppose. But about my hose.”

Leonard reached under a chair, and pulled out the rolled-up length of hose. He stood a meter in front of Jim, and, holding the coupling on the outside of the roll, flung the roll between Jim’s open feet, in a move that looked like bowling, unrolling the hose behind Jim on the floor of their quarters.

“See,” Leonard said, still holding the coupling, “it needs to be drained. And every firefighter knows the simplest way to do that is to run it over your shoulder.” He stepped close enough to Jim that their bodies held the flat hose between them, at crotch level, and started threading the hose over his shoulder. It was an awkward movement, to be sure, but it pulled the hose from behind Jim, running it up between his legs.

Leonard used a foot to kick one of Jim’s substantial boots inwards, closing the space between his legs, trapping the hose line high up between his thighs. He continued to pull the hose up and back.

“Hope that’s not botherin’ you too much,” he said. “Should be okay, what with your heavy turnout gear an’ all.”

Jim swallowed audibly, and got that blank look that Leonard recognized as Jim being turned on by something that was kinky, but that he’d never thought of. Leonard chuckled out loud, still amazed, after all these years, that Jim, with his outrageous playboy reputation, was actually far more vanilla than Leonard himself was.

“It’s all right, darlin’,” Leonard said, amping up the drawl. “It’s just us firemen here.” He continued drawing the hose between their crotches, pressing up against Jim. Jim’s outfit was so thick and heavy that Leonard couldn’t really feel what might be going on inside it, but he could tell from the flush creeping up Jim’s neck that Things were Happening.

When he reached the end of the hose, he let the coupling sit on the floor, and left the rest dangle over his shoulder. He looked Jim in the eye again.

“Oh, look; you’re all sweaty. Let me loosen up that coat for you a little more.” Leonard dragged the heavy zipper down all the way to the bottom of the coat, and slipped his hands inside, around Jim’s waist, pulling them closer together, groin to groin.

“And my goodness— _that_ must be uncomfortable, in those heavy pants.” His hands found the large plastic buckle, which he squeezed, popping it open. He worked the Velcro fly open with as much unnecessary hand-to-crotch contact as he deemed appropriate, which was quite a lot, actually.

“Mm,” Leonard said. “Is that a pike pole in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

Jim was recovering from his kink-induced daze, and managed a reply. “Left the pike pole on the fire engine,” he said. “But I’m always happy to see you.” He reached towards Leonard’s bare chest.

He should’ve known better, really. Leonard gently shoved his hand away.

“We've still got some work to do, before we can play,” Leonard said.

“Oh? What’s that?” Jim asked, a sly grin appearing on his face.

“My pole needs polishing.”

With that, Leonard backed away from Jim, invisible in the hazy room, and caught hold of the brass pole. He tapped the remote-control ring against the adjacent finger, to signal the holoprojector to move on to the next part of its program, clearing the room of the holographic smoke so Jim could see. The projector’s sound system began playing the music Leonard had programmed in. The music had a vague tune, but an insistent rhythm, and was playing so quietly it was almost subliminal.

When he thought of using the pole as a sexy prop, he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it, but a few quick searches on some 21st-century video archives showed him that similar poles used to be props in something called ‘poledancing.’ Once he watched some of the videos, he couldn’t understand how this style ever could have fallen out of fashion. He didn’t find many men doing these performances, but he borrowed some of the best masculine moves he found to show off some of his attributes that he knew Jim appreciated. At least, he borrowed the moves he could actually pull off without injuring himself.

Leonard could see Jim’s eyes locked onto him as he handed Jim his flimsy helmet. He put one finger in the center of Jim’s chest, and pushed him back from the pole.

“Two meter safety zone, Captain,” he said, as he kicked his boots off.

Jim backed to the edge of the room, and leaned against the wall, holding Leonard’s fake helmet in one hand, and his own real one in the other. The music got louder, just slightly, as it was programmed to do, as soon as Leonard touched the pole.

Leonard started with his favorite non-sexy move, grabbing the pole with one hand and the crook of one knee twirling himself around. He added the other arm, and made himself rise up the pole in a move that he had to watch about a hundred times (not that he minded) before he figured out how the gravity-defying trick worked. He let himself spin down, sliding slowly down the pole in a move that looked graceful and elegant, but took all his strength to pull off.

“Holy shit, Bones,” he heard.

He needed the entire two-meter ‘safety zone’ for his next move, where he braced all his weight on his lower arm, and cartwheeled over the pole. He moved right into another quick climb, all the way to the ceiling this time, where he levered himself outwards, and then flipped upside down. He was hoping the flimsy Velcro closure on his fake coat would fail the way it was meant to, and it did. At the bottom the pole, hanging upside down, he let the coat slide off his shoulders and fall to the floor. He turned himself right-side-up again, and tossed the coat to Jim.

Jim was so busy staring he didn’t come close to catching the garment. It hit him squarely in the center of the chest, and dropped to the floor. Leonard continued with some tricky moves that required the friction of skin on the pole, rather than the slickness of the satin coat, while still taking advantage of the slippery satin pants. Leonard imagined he could feel Jim’s eyes boring into his ass, which he knew the pants showed to great advantage.

Jim was so transfixed when Leonard started peeling the pants off, down to skin-tight boxer briefs, that Leonard wondered if he might actually begin drooling. His jaw hung open, and his pupils were dilated more than the slightly subdued lighting in the room could account for, as Leonard dived right in to the really sexy part of his routine.

He’d felt ridiculous practicing this on the pole he’d had put up in the exercise room. But nobody could see, and he knew he was doing it for Jim. And now, during the actual performance, he felt totally uninhibited, knowing his lover was enjoying watching his body do things he’d never seen before.

As Leonard segued from the athletic part of his routine to the sexy part, the pole changed from a piece of gymnastics equipment to more of a prop. He locked eyes with Jim as he draped himself around the pole, stretching one arm up high, with one leg wrapped around the pole. He leaned his weight so he’d spin slowly.

When his slow spin wound down, he did slow _pliés_ , with caused his groin to travel up and down the shiny brass pole. This part had been difficult to practice in the exercise room, because of its potential physiological results, but luckily it was a simple maneuver.

After a few ups and downs, Leonard gestured, with a crooked finger, for Jim to come closer. Jim shuffled forwards in his heavy gear. As soon as he was within reach, Leonard pulled him in, so the pole was between them. He stripped off Jim’s heavy coat, and tossed it aside. He loosened the suspenders, and let them fall to Jim’s sides.

Jim was very intelligently wearing a moisture-wicking undershirt beneath the heavy coat, which Leonard peeled off him and added to the heap the coat formed. He put the red suspenders back over Jim’s shoulders again, and pulled their straps just tight enough that the suspenders wouldn’t slip off Jim’s bare shoulders.

“That’s a nice look for a fireman,” Leonard murmured in Jim’s ear.

“Liking your look pretty well, too,” Jim replied breathily.

Leonard pulled himself away from the pole, and maneuvered Jim so that his back was against the pole. Once again Jim reached for Leonard. This time Leonard pushed Jim’s hands down, and behind the pole. He slipped the suspenders down, and pulled one strap through the loop of the other, behind Jim’s back, effectively tying his hands together behind him.

Leonard took a step back to admire his handiwork. At the same time, he was keenly aware that he was being admired, as well.

“That brass pole’s nice and shiny, now. So I think your pole needs a good polishing,” he said, once both their pairs of eyes had gotten their fill.

Jim didn’t say anything; he just whimpered, and leaned back against the pole as his eyes continued to fixate on Leonard. His chest, his abs, the bulge in the front of his shorts—Jim took it all in.

“Jesus, Bones—did you shave your chest?”

“Shhhh,” Leonard said, as he approached Jim again. “Just relax.”

Leonard ran his hands all over Jim’s naked upper body, in an almost predatory way. Jim tried to reach out to touch him in return, but Leonard quickly put his hands back behind the pole.

“I see those suspenders aren’t doing the trick,” he said. He retreated to the part of the room where they’d dropped the length of hose they’d been ‘draining’ earlier, and picked it up. He found the center of the length, and looped that around Jim’s chest, running the ends behind his shoulders, making an X behind him, then back around his waist, crossing over his hands behind him, and back down around the backs of his knees to his feet, effectively tying him to the pole.

“There,” Leonard said. “That should keep you still for me.”

Leonard went to one side of the room, and retrieved the fake fire extinguisher, stashing it right behind Jim, out of the way, but within easy reach for when it was needed. He knelt in front of Jim, and once again played with the heavy-duty Velcro closure of the thick pants, this time opening it all the way to reveal the shorts beneath, which didn’t conceal the alert package beneath at all.

“Definitely needs a good polishing,” Leonard said, as he worked the bulky pants downwards, taking the shorts along with them. He thought he heard Jim whimper, but decided it must’ve been his imagination.

Once his target was fully liberated, Leonard stroked Jim’s cock up and down a few times with a hand, so he could see Jim’s eyes roll back and then close, as they always did when Leonard was blowing him. When Jim’s eyes were closed, Leonard laid his hands on Jim’s hipbones, and let his tongue make first contact with the head of Jim’s cock. He circled the head with the tip of his tongue a few times before gently closing his lips over it.

At that moment, he tapped the holoprojector’s remote again, to trigger the next part of its program. A small ‘fire’ started in the center of the room. Leonard knew Jim wouldn’t notice it at its current size, since his eyes were closed, but it would make itself unignorable soon enough.

Leonard’s hands could feel the tension mounting in Jim’s muscles as he continued. He let his palms travel over Jim’s body, over the host that restrained Jim’s movements. He let his hands slip under the hose to cup Jim’s buttocks, while at the same time he took Jim as deeply as he could in his mouth and throat. He moved his head up and down, ignoring the awkwardness of the angle.

“Gnghhh … Bones … fuh …”

Leonard tapped the remote again, and the ‘fire’ grew. Leonard could tell Jim’s attention had been caught, as he felt Jim’s body try to turn towards the fake conflagration. Leonard pulled back just long enough to talk for a second.

“Gettin’ kinda hot in here, hmm?”

“…”

He returned to his task with gusto, almost but not quite forgetting to ramp up the intensity of the ‘fire’ by clicking the remote every now and then.

When the ‘fire’ was at its maximum setting, and Jim appeared to be as well, Leonard pulled back abruptly and took a moment to enjoy the tableau he’d created.

“ … Bones … don’t you dare …”

Leonard chuckled as he approached the object of his affections once more. “Won’t leave you hangin’, darlin’. I never do. You just have a job to do first, before I can finish _my_ job,” he said, as he started unwrapping the hose that secured Jim against the pole. He freed Jim just enough that he could use his hands.

“ … what the _fuck_ , Bones?”

Leonard handed him the fake fire extinguisher.

“You’re the _real_ firefighter, right? I’m just a stripper. So, put it out.” Leonard took a spot behind Jim, working Jim’s erection just enough to keep it going in all the commotion.

“I hate you,” Jim panted, as he aimed the extinguisher at the flames. He squeezed the trigger handle and sprayed back and forth across the middle of the flames.

Nothing happened, except that Leonard started nuzzling the back of Jim’s neck.

“I really hate you,” Jim said.

“Now, I’d’ve thought that a professional like you would know that you have to aim at the base of the fire, since that’s where the fuel is. Now, try again, hotshot,” Leonard said, as he nibbled on Jim’s earlobe.

“Have I mentioned how much I hate you?”

Jim aimed the nozzle of the extinguisher right at the bottom of the ‘fire,’ and held it there.

“Sweep it back and forth,” Leonard suggested, demonstrating gently with the piece of Jim’s anatomy that provided the best model.

“I really, _really_ hate you,” Jim said, following Leonard’s instructions.

The fire went out, just as the extinguisher hissed in a disappointed way that suggested it was nearly empty. The holoprojector, following its program, filled the room with a haze again, and the scent emitter added a puff of smoke aroma.

“But I really, really love you,” Leonard said, taking the spent extinguisher from Jim and placing it on the floor behind the pole. He returned to his spot in front of Jim, and pressed the length of his not-quite-naked body against Jim’s partially clothed one. Jim’s hands, finally free, pulled him closer. Their lips met, and Jim groaned into the kiss as he tasted the salty tang of his own pre-come on Leonard’s tongue, which never failed to set him off.

Leonard allowed, and enjoyed, a deep kiss, for a minute or two, until he felt the need to get back to the business at hand.

“I don’t think I wanna let you go quite yet,” he said, as he planted kisses down Jim’s throat, down the center of his chest; down, down, down, until he took up where he left off before the ‘fire’ had gotten out of control.

This time, Jim’s fingers curled into Leonard’s hair, not pulling, but tangling in possessively, combing and carding. As Leonard picked up the pace and the intensity of his oral attentions, Jim’s hands got increasingly grabby and urgent, and eventually couldn’t seem to help themselves from doing a bit of manhandling.

Leonard never minded a little manhandling. Jim never actually hurt him, and truth be told, Leonard actually got off on a little bit of controlled roughness. He suspected that this was one of the reasons Jim liked being partially restrained—he could get a little out of control, but would know he couldn’t hurt Leonard.

Leonard got hotter and hotter himself, turned on by the sound and feel of Jim at the edge, but resisted doing anything about his own increasingly urgent erection, wanting to save it for later.

“Hnnhh … Bones … gonna …”

Leonard took a deep breath and relaxed his throat, and pushed his face even farther forwards. Jim cried out and clutched his hands in Leonard’s hair as he came, hips juddering involuntarily. Leonard pulled back, swallowing, and stroked Jim through the aftershocks, until he could tell his touch was becoming too much. He kissed his way back upwards again, following the trail of a rivulet of sweat that had trickled down the shallow depression dividing one side of Jim’s abdomen from the other, and kissed Jim again.

Jim’s heaving breaths came through his nose and cooled Leonard’s face, slowly decreasing in frequency and intensity as Jim came back to himself. He slumped against the brass pole, heavy pants pooled around his knees.

“You killed me dead, Bones,” Jim said, wrapping his still-quivering arms around his lover.

“Not done yet, sugarpants,” Leonard said.

“Good,” Jim replied. “Does that mean I get to tie you up now?”

Leonard snorted. “Not how this is gonna go, darlin’.” But he began loosening the hose further, to free Jim from the firepole. Once the hose was completely unwrapped, Leonard held Jim against the pole with just one finger in the center of Jim’s chest.

Jim looked at him questioningly. Leonard answered the question by clicking the holoprojector’s tiny remote again.

“Oh, dear,” Leonard said. “Someone call the fire department. It seems our bed is on fire.”

Jim peered over Leonard’s shoulder and saw that, indeed, the bed was covered in ‘flames.’

“Well, Bones, we better go quench those flames,” Jim said. He hitched his pants back up, hiking his suspenders back up over his shoulders. Getting into the spirit of things, he took Leonard by one arm, and, turning his back to him, pulled the arm over his shoulder. At the same time, he squatted low, and put his hip under Leonard’s center of gravity.

Leonard yelped as Jim pulled him off balance. Jim squatted Leonard’s weight, hefting him up, and grabbed Leonard’s leg behind the knee, with his other arm. When he stood all the way up, he had Leonard slung over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, an arm over one shoulder and a leg over the other.

“I don’t usually carry my victims _towards_ the fire,” Jim said, “but I think I’ll make an exception in this case.”

Jim dumped Leonard unceremoniously onto the bed, but he didn’t have the upper hand for long, and knew that he wasn’t supposed to, either. He stood next to the bed, waiting for instructions.

“What I read,” Leonard said slowly, “is that firefighters used to leave their boots tucked into their pants, right next to the bed, so they could just jump in and go.”

Jim started slowly working his way out of the suspenders, taking his time with the Velcro fly, and shimmying the pants down once the closures were all opened again. Once the pants were bunched up around the tops of the boots, he stepped out of the pile, clad in nothing but his boxers and socks. He shed the socks quickly; he’d learned long ago that there was no sexy way to take socks off.

“An’ here I thought _I_ was supposed to be the stripper,” Leonard said. “You did that like a pro. But how ‘bout if I take care of that one last bit, there?”

He slid to the edge of the bed, and helped Jim out of his shorts. Holographic flames licked around them the entire time, casting an eerie glow over the room.

Leonard crooked his finger at Jim, beckoning him to join him in bed, and Jim complied unhesitatingly. Jim reached for Leonard, and divested him of his boxer briefs, leveling the playing field. They looked at each other with a familiar and comfortable combination of fondness and lust, for several long seconds, until Leonard decided it was time to get back to their game.

“So, Mr. Fireman, how do think we could best quench these flames?” he asked, grazing his body over Jim’s supine form. Jim sucked in a breath as Leonard’s erect cock brushed over and across his own, which was rapidly showing renewed interest in the proceedings.

“I dunno, Bones. You have something particular in mind?” Jim asked, running his fingers down Leonard’s spine, in the valley formed by the long muscles.

“Yes, I do. And by the way, your refractory period is ridiculous. Are you sure you’re not actually seventeen?” Leonard said, as he got busy with his hands, and bowed his body into Jim’s touch.

“C’mon, Bones. You have to be at least eighteen to be a firefighter. Plus, you’ve read my medical records. And does what you had in mind have anything to do with, by any chance, say, fucking me?”

“Got it in one, hotshot.”

“Excellent,” Jim said. “Now. Seems to me like your hose is charged. And I bet—”

Jim’s remarks were cut off by Leonard’s lips fastening on to his. When the pair separated to breathe, faces lit by the flickering of the holographic flames, Leonard put one finger on Jim’s lips, which were swollen and pink.

“No more talking,” he whispered. “You talk too damned much.”

“I do, I really do, I know—mmmph …”

Leonard once again silenced Jim with his lips, and also held his wrists together over his head, not violently, but with enough power to show Jim he meant business. Jim responded to the gentle restraint by arching up, and moaning into the kiss.

Leonard pulled back just enough to chuckle. “Uh huh. Thought so. Don’t move.”

He leaned out of the bed, and unsnapped the red suspenders from the pants that were sitting on top of the heavy rubber boots. He looped them around Jim’s wrists a few times, and then tied the ends securely to the rail attached to the wall, just behind the mattress. Leonard had installed the discreet but sturdy rail as soon as Jim took command of the Enterprise for the five-year mission—even before they’d officially moved in together.

Jim hadn’t complained then, and he wasn’t complaining now.

“That okay, darlin’?” Leonard asked quietly.

“Yeah, Bones. It’s good.”

Leonard knelt over Jim, one knee on either side of him, and just looked at him. The flickering of the holographic fire made it look like he was squirming, even though Leonard could feel that Jim was perfectly still. He leaned down and kissed Jim again, starting with his lips, then moving down to one nipple, and the other. This time Jim did squirm, and he squirmed still more when Leonard trailed a hand down his body and between his legs.

Jim moved one of his knees to the side obligingly, opening a path for Leonard’s hand.

“Mmm, Bones …” Jim murmured as Leonard stroked his cock, fondled his balls, and slid his hand between his cheeks. Leonard’s other hand was busy fishing for the lube on the nightstand. Once he found it, he returned to the task at hand, circling Jim’s hole until his finger popped in and he could begin gently prepping Jim.

“Bones, Bones, don’t spend too much time with that. Wanna feel you in me, want you to feel good.”

Leonard breathed into Jim’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent that tonight was tinged with the smoky aroma Jim had concocted for the occasion. “I always feel good with you. I love touching you, seeing you, hearing you, smelling you, tasting you, feeling you every way I can.” He demonstrated each of these methods, all the while working Jim open. He made sure he dipped his crooked fingers towards just the right spot from time to time, and delighted in Jim’s expressions of pleasure.

“Hnnggh … Bones, I’m so ready … _please_ …”

Leonard had to admit that he himself was also more than ready. He lubed up his cock, which looked angry at the amount of stimulation it had gotten without having been touched. With the excess lube, he stroked Jim’s cock, which was reaching up to him imploringly.

Jim struggled against his unorthodox bonds, but they both knew he didn’t really want to be freed. He arched up and writhed, seeking out friction, and Leonard took the opportunity to slip a pillow under Jim’s hips. He positioned the head of his cock at Jim’s entrance, and Jim instantly shifted the direction of his arching, begging for Leonard without saying a word.

Leonard pushed in slowly, partly teasing, partly giving Jim time to adjust, and partly willing himself not to come right then and there. He’d planned to manipulate the holoprojector a bit, to intensify the fire, but he became so lost in Jim that the crackling flames stayed exactly as they were.

Jim couldn’t move his hands, but he could and did wrap his legs around Leonard, not so tightly that he couldn’t move, but firmly enough that they were locked together in a rhythm that suited them both. Their pace built of its own accord, and before he really wanted it to happen, Leonard found himself teetering on the brink of climax. He tried to slow down, to back up, but neither Jim’s body nor his own was letting that happen.

Leonard felt Jim’s body tensing up, just as his own did, and they surged their bodies together one more time. Jim squeezed hard with his legs, and his arm and back muscles strained at the bonds keeping his hands from touching his lover. Leonard felt Jim’s muscles pulsing and contracting around his cock just as hot wetness made their bellies more slippery than mere sweat had, and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

Leonard’s vision whited out momentarily as his body was consumed by heat, and his ears filled with a rush of static as he came, shouting wordlessly, clutching at Jim wherever his hands happened to fall. For a moment, he thought the ersatz fire had somehow become real, that they had burned alive; but he knew that burning alive could never feel so fucking good.

“Bones … off …”

Leonard came to his senses and rolled off Jim, who heaved in several huge breaths. He unhitched the clumsy but effective suspender restraints, and Jim immediately enclosed Leonard in the embrace of his arms. They rolled to one side, foreheads together, as they recovered further.

“Wasn’t that s’posed to quench the flames?” Jim asked, mumbling against Leonard’s lips.

“Hmm? Oh.” Leonard held the button in on the ring-mounted remote, and the holoprojector ended its projection, putting the flames to rest, this time without the holographic smoke.

“Tha’s better,” Jim said, as he burrowed his face into his lover’s neck.

“So,” Leonard said, several minutes later.

“Mmm?”

“How’s your stress level?”

“On a scale of one to ten, about zero at the moment,” Jim said sleepily.

“Then you were right—having Halloween on the ship was a good idea,” Leonard said, running his hand through Jim’s bronze hair.

“How ‘bout you, Bones? I was afraid the whole Halloween thing was just gonna stress you out.”

“I found a way not to let it,” Leonard said, unable to keep a hint of smugness from his voice. “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

“Or, maybe, fight fire with fire.” Jim said. “Hey, did you ever hear this one? Why do firemen wear red suspenders?”

“All the better to tie them up with?” Leonard guessed.

Jim considered that response for a few seconds. “Not the answer I had in mind, but even better.”

**The End**

  



End file.
